


we can turn it into gold dust

by MageOfCole



Series: Cole Does Jangobi Week 2021 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Breastfeeding, Force-Sensitive Jango Fett, Jangobi Week (Star Wars), M/M, Mand'alor Jango Fett, Mandalorian Leia Organa, Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mandalorian luke skywalker, Mandalorians Love Babies, Minor MPreg, Near-Human Jango Fett, No Galidraan Massacre, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Raises Leia Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi Raises Luke Skywalker, Past Character Death, Soft Jango Fett, Stewjoni Biology (Star Wars), The True Mandalorians Lived, Time Travel Fix-It, Trans Obi-Wan Kenobi, True Mandalorians (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi wakes up decades in the past, far younger than he last was and far from where he last remembers being, and with two infants that need his love and care. He has no time to crumble, not when Luke and Leia need him, instead he follows the will of the Force, and trusts it to guide him to where he needs to be.(Day 2 - Time Travel)
Relationships: Jango Fett & Myles the Mandalorian, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Leia Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker
Series: Cole Does Jangobi Week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138826
Comments: 52
Kudos: 617
Collections: Jangobi Week





	we can turn it into gold dust

When Ben had first woken up in the past, he’d had nowhere to go. He hadn’t known where he was, what he was doing, or what he _would_ do, he hadn’t even been aware that he _was_ in the past at first. He had still been shaking with adrenaline from his battle against - against Vader. Bone weary from the grief of losing his family, from the ache of the betrayal of his men, he hadn’t been sure of anything, but the fact that he’d had two children in his arms that needed protection and that he was no longer on Bail’s ship. No longer standing beside his Grandmaster and the body of one of his dearest friends.

At first, he hadn’t even realized that he was over a decade younger than he had been only months before, all he’d known was that he was immensely grateful for the peculiarities of Stewjoni biology, because he’d had two very hungry newborns to feed before he could truly wonder about what had happened.

He’d disguised himself as a farmer, hiding his and Anakins’ lightsabers, stealing some clothing from an abandoned homestead, and that had been when he’d truly gotten his first good look at his face, and he’d nearly retched in his shock. The face staring back at him had been fresh with young, a face round with immaturity and smattered with freckles Ben hadn’t worn since he was a Padawan, free of the beard he had once worn. He barely looked out of his teens, like he should still be following his Master around on missions and attending lessons in the Temple. He had stood them, bare as the day he had been born, for a long time, just staring at his reflection in the broken glass until one of the twins started wailing to be fed and Ben had forced himself to move.

Luke and Leia needed him, so he couldn’t let himself crumble.

Ben had forced himself to keep moving, because he had two orphaned infants who needed him for everything. Without him, they’d have no food, no warmth, no care - so he’d kept moving forward, looking to the Force for guidance. The lack of slimy Darkness around him had been a shock at first, had made him realize how _used_ to it he had become over the years, and it wasn’t only all from the two supernovas that he carried around with him, one strapped to his chest, the other to his back, as they’d worked their way through the countryside of a snow-covered planet that Ben didn’t recognize.

It had been beautiful, at least, seeing the sun glinting off of ice crystals and snow capped trees, white dusted on the undergrowth like a layer of powdered sugar on those donuts he remembered Garen enjoying a little too much when they had been children. He had spent too long confined to the war front and Coruscant, unable to see the beauty of nature like he could on the unknown planet he had found himself on.

The peace hadn’t lasted.

Urged on by the Force, Ben had kept walking, and eventually he’d found himself stumbling upon a camp of armoured Mandalorians - who had all seemed equally as surprised to see him as he was to see them. It had been a tense stand-off, staring down the business end of almost a hundred blasters, until Luke had started fussing under his coat, uneasy with the emotions being broadcasted into the Force and hungry once more.

The sights and sounds of a fussy baby had been the sign that the Mando’ade had needed, and Ben had found himself immediately ushered further into the camp by protective and worried warriors. They’d been utterly delighted when both children had been unveiled, like seeing a second infant was the most precious thing they’d all ever seen. He’d found himself and the twins herded to the tent at the very center of the camp, the most well-defended position with the best insulation and heating, private enough to let him breastfeed in peace. Eventually, a medic had come to him, carrying a scanner and leading a younger _verd_ laden with blankets and pillows behind xem. Blood work had been done, a medical profile created, and none of them had even blinked an eye when neither Luke or Leias’ genetics matched his own.

To them, he was Ben Tano, twenty years old, just another refugee who had gotten in over his head, who had taken in two orphans who had needed care and comfort. _Baar’ur_ Nawara had been knowledgeable and well-trained, and perhaps Ben shouldn’t have been as surprised as he had been that the Twi’Lek had known the specifics of Stewjoni biology, considering that Mandalorians had once been known to take in beings regardless of species, as long as they swore the _resol’nare_.

Eventually, their leader had returned from scouting, had swept into the tent and into Ben’s life, and then there he had stayed.

It was then, shirtless under one of the blankets offered to him, cradling the twins in his arms as they’d fed, that the truth of his situation had truly sunk in, because when the _buy’ce_ had come off, Ben had found himself staring into a hauntingly familiar face, one he had spent the last three years of his life surrounded by at all sides. Jango Fett, young enough that he could have been mistaken as one of his clones, dressed in _beskar’gam_ painted in a way that Ben had never seen, dark hair curling around a face unlined by years of hatred and suffering, had stared back at him. Barely out of his teenaged years himself, Jango Fett had proven himself to be a completely different person than the man Ben had met in his own time, the one that had consigned millions of his own children to a life of slavery and death. This was a Jango Fett who was still Mand’alor, still a leader among his people, one who had not yet been given the name of Jedi Killer - and Ben had made sure that he never would.

Somehow, he had been thrown decades into the past, in a body young enough that he could be mistake for a teenager, on Galidraan before the slaughter of the True Mandalorians, before the Mandalorian Civil War had truly spun out of control and Death Watch gained the amount of traction Ben had once known them to have. He’d been thrown into a past before Jango had given himself over to a life of vengeance, before the clones had even been created, and Ben had made sure it would never happen.

He mourned for the friends he lost by meddling; mourned good, strong Cody, kind Waxer and Boil, cheerful Wooley, and so many more that had been lost. He mourned for his 212th, who had betrayed him for reasons Ben doubted he’d ever know, for Rex and the 501st, for all of the clones who would never get to live. By making sure the True Mandalorians didn’t die on Galidraan, Ben had ensured that they’d never live, he had changed the course of history and everything he had known.

He had nowhere to go, no home to go back to - there was already an Obi-Wan Kenobi at the Temple, and even the thought of returning made him think of the bodies of his family on the floor, of smoke rising above the spires and fear staining the walls like blood. So when Jango had offered him a place with the True Mandalorians, among people he hadn’t known in his own time, he had accepted.

He had accepted, had become a Mandalorian, and, eventually, he became the _Be’alor_ as well.

An arm slides across his waist, pulling him closer against a warm, broad chest, and Ben feels lips press against the back of his neck, hot breath ruffling the shaggy copper hair there. “It’s too early to be thinking, _Mesh’la_.” His husband murmurs, his end of their Force bond buzzing groggily, and Ben hums, enjoying the pleasant tingle of human contact, melting into Jango’s embrace as a large hand splays across the faint bump of his abdomen. “What’s wrong, _riduur_? Is the _ikaad_ bothering you?”

“Just thinking, _cyar’ika_.” He soothes, pulling away just enough that he can roll over to face his husband, letting the other man tuck his head under his chin, dark curls brushing against the clean shaven skin there, hand moving back to the ever-growing baby bump. This late in the night cycle, it’s just the two of them in the _Mand’alor_ ’s suite, far too early as it is for even energetic five year olds to be running around. The Keldabe palace is a fortress, impenetrable and safe, and it lets Ben relax, allowing him to be sure that his _ade_ are safe. “It’s been five years.” He muses, almost amazed by the fact, playing absently with Jango’s soft hair.

Jango purrs deep in his chest as his nails drag over his scalp, a genetic hold over from the nonhuman ancestors Ben had never known he’d had - but maybe he shouldn’t have been too surprised to learn, considering how pack-minded the clones had been. “Best five years of my life.” The man rumbles sleepily, nuzzling against Ben’s collarbone. “I might just like your Force-shit after all. It gave me you.” Then, when Ben’s mouth opens to say something appropriately witty, still unsure what to do with the love and care aimed towards him to this day, Jango silences him with a sweet kiss that tastes like morning breath and makes both of them screw up their faces in exaggerated disgust.

“Urg.” Ben says dramatically, like some great insult had been given to him, flopping over onto his back and ignoring the faint roll of nausea that follows when the baby makes their displeasure known. Jango follows like a limpet, burying his face in Ben’s stomach and rubbing his cheek against the delightfully soft fabric of his sleep shirt as he stretches his arms across him like another blanket. “So _uncivilized_.”

“You love me.” Jango grins at him, soft with sleep and his cheek resting against the bump of their growing child, dark eyes shimmering with so much love that Ben wants to cry sometimes.

He doesn’t know what he ever could have done to deserve this sweet happiness.

“Unfortunately.” Ben teases, reaching out to ruffle his hair again, and Jango melts into his touch, purrs kicking up once more. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you and accepted Myles’ proposal instead.”

“ _Betrayal_.” Jango grumps, voice thickening once more as sleep creeps towards him once again, “My own brother, betraying me. I should have him hanged.”

He can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up in response, “You wouldn’t.” He says playfully, dodging the half-hearted swat that lands on his pillow instead, leaving Jango’s wrist to rest against his mouth, and Ben nips at it teasingly. “You love Myles too much.”

“Lies and slander.”

Ben laughs again, the weight of his past long forgotten in the face of his husband’s warmth, and he gently kisses the pulse point he can feel beating against his lips. “Go back to sleep, Jan’ika. We have a few hours yet until your court needs us.”

“ _Our_ court.” Jango mumbles, surrendering to the gentle Force suggestion Ben had lined his words with. “You got half of it when you agreed to marry me.” His breath evens as he slips back to sleep, filling the room and the Force with foggy contentment and gentle love, and Ben smiles.

“Of course.” He teases his sleeping husband, unable to not get the last word even as he finds himself being pulled back to his dreams. “How dare I forget that.”


End file.
